A Surgical Solace
by RandomOTP
Summary: Brockton Bay is falling apart and, with everyone trying to claim the throne, too few people are trying to hold it together. So what impact would one more person have? No romance or slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own worm, only Solace**

**Warning: Adult-ish themes... eventually. Seriously, it's Worm.**

* * *

_"If only I could be so grossly incandescent" –Solaire of Astora_

* * *

"Ace," a chorus of childish voices cheered at my entrance. Today was Monday, one of the days where I visited the pediatrics wing. Often enough, there was usually a broken bone or a case of chicken pox, or something similar that I could help out with. Though, this being Bay, it wasn't too unusual for there to be an infant, addicted to his mother's vices, waiting for me. An idle brush of my cold, clawed hand against soft, fragile skin would be all that it would take to fix it.

The hospital almost always called me in, when there was a child that they couldn't help. Sometimes, they called Amel… Panacea, but they preferred my aid when it came to the younger patients.

While I knew for a fact that Brockton Bay Memorial was _immensely_ grateful the young girl's help, the simple fact was that she required biomass to work with, whereas I didn't. And after the Crawford Incident, even though they ruled her innocent of wrongdoing, Panacea stopped going out of her way to heal the younger children. Instead, the hospital sent them my way.

That was also around the same time that Panacea stopped visiting Pediatrics. In a bitter moment, she spat that my "claws" were "obviously safer" than her hands. I still don't know what I should've said, but now I think that anything would have been better than my stunned silence. I suspect the poor girl took it as tacit agreement and it breaks my heart.

Carefully, I arranged my face into the best semblance of a smile possible and returned the patients' greetings with deliberate mirth. I recognized many of them. These children were amongst the lower class of Brockton Bay; the sons and daughters of dockworkers, police officers, and gang members. Without my direct help, the hospital bills that these children accumulated in their recovery would likely break the backs of their families, causing them to drown in debt when they had been struggling to stay afloat before.

I went room by room, devoting as much time as each child needed. It was a slow day and I could afford to take my time… though, even if it weren't, there was nothing to be lost by being kind to scared children.

Kneeling, I gently sat my immense frame beside the hospital bed. I reached out and, ever-mindful of the claws, gently took the hand of a particularly imperious-looking little girl. It looked so small in my palm.

"What's your name, my dear?" I asked, trying to distract her while I reached out with my power. I've been told that my power can be grotesque, at times.

"Elene, but Daddy says that 'monsters like you don't deserve to know,' " she answered, her nose turned up in the air, masking the immense fear that her brain was sending out in waves. No doubt the sharp, sterile tang of the hospital frightened her. There were paintings of silly little sea shores and pirate boats, posters of the local heroes, and even a mural depicting Scion's Sunrise, but the walls were still too-white underneath it all and the pristine cleanliness of the hospital's overall décor no doubt left her feeling uneasy.

Of course, it probably didn't help that she seemed to have a tumor pressing her brain against her skull. I stole the tumor away from her, feeling its reappearance like a railroad spike through my eye. And then it was gone, the tumor vanishing in the wake of my body's unnatural healing. A heartbeat –less, actually –of pain and this little princess would have a future. She would live to inherit the world from her father.

"Well," I smiled woodenly, hoping that she wouldn't notice my awkwardness. "Be sure to eat your vegetables."

The staff here are good with children. There are nurses in this hospital that can fill the air with the too-full, whirlwind laughter of children young enough to have never known the pain of restraint. These doctors can ease the twittering nervousness of a toddler with only an easy smile and a gentle tone.

I'm not good with children. They're… precious, wondrous beings that glow and gleam and radiate emotion. They laugh freely, carelessly. They feel everything so powerfully and so thoughtlessly, it's like they don't know that they're doing the hardest thing the world. They're holding up the sky and they don't even know it.

I wish that I knew how to react to that, but I don't even know how to _understand_ it. But I can help them, I can protect their smiles, in my own little way. So I do.

Elene straightens her posture and turns away from me after a pointed glare. It's a well-practiced maneuver, and I can't but wonder where she learned it.

I hesitate at the obvious dismissal, unsure of what to do. Unsure of what to say. Maybe one of the nurse would've known what to do. Maybe Panacea would've had the right words to say. But I don't, so I move on to the next room.

X

Nurse Angelica heard the telltale cautious footfalls of claws on the hospital floor. That silly man, the hospital had paid to reinforce the floors so he could relax and walk freely. But the well-meaning cape still stepped as lightly as he physically could.

The aging nurse glanced at the clock, it was around lunchtime. Knowing him, he'd probably take another ten minutes just to cross her desk, going into each and every room in between to heal the patients there. It was absolute murder on the paperwork, but no one complained. Those who did were soon… _corrected _by the nursing staff. The young man did good work, and Angelica would shoulder the increase in paperwork on her own if she had to.

Solace had saved countless lives and never once failed to respond to an emergency call. If he wanted to heal up whatever bumps and scrapes that he stumbled across on his way to the lunchroom? Well, the way Angelica saw it, it's more than a fair deal.

As the grey skinned cape walked by her desk, he froze in place with all the demeanor of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Gracing Solace with a friendly smile, Angelica returned to her paperwork, trying not to feel too amused at the sudden relief in the cape's posture as he realized she wasn't going to ask what had been doing. Such a sweet boy, if she heard someone calling him a "monster," "beast" or an "it" again… well, they might very well find that a nurse has ways of making her displeasure known.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Worm. That belongs to Wildbow. I do, however, own a nice chest of books, to be divided amongst my friends upon my death.**

**Warning: This is a wormfic, so mature themes may arise. It's ****_Worm._**

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_"__All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players..."_

_-William Shakespeare, "As You Like It"_

* * *

I brought the oversized mug of coffee –more of a tankard than a cup –to my lips, sipping the bitter black liquid. Really, it was more for lack of anything to do than for the caffeine. My body, the biological oddity that it is, doesn't really react to stimulants. Or depressants, for that matter. Rather, it purges them from my system as it would any poison or harmful substance.

I couldn't tell that the coffee was hot, either. Though the steam drifting from it cued me in, I couldn't actually taste the heat. It only tasted bitter and just this side of tepid, rather than the scalding that it should have been. I can't help but to worry about this sensory dissonance, sometimes. Especially when it's late at night and the city sleeps while I remain clear and conscious.

Well. When most of city sleeps.

I flicked my gaze to Panacea. The uniformed cape sat across the break room table, looking for all the world to be impatient to get back at it. The bags under her bloodshot brown eyes worried me. I had stolen away her exhaustion not but a few days ago, so how had she exhausted herself so much already? I made a mental note to speak with Miss Angelica. Between the contradictory nurse and myself, we should be able to get Panacea to take a break.

_"__Poor girl needs it_," I thought as I took in her desolate, exhausted expression.

"Nope. Just because you're immune to me, doesn't mean that you're immune to _Vicky_," Amelia (no, Panacea when in uniform… these double identities were still more than a little weird to me) interrupted my thoughts with a pointed scowl.

I guess I hadn't hidden my concern well enough –really, I need to stop being such an open book.

"Victoria's becoming more fond of me," I returned, resisting the urge to scratch at the ever-burning brand on my cheek. "If only because I can shoulder some of the city's work load." Not _strictly_ needing to eat, sleep, or rest had its advantages.

"Right," Panacea snorted, exhaustion turning what would have been dry amusement into something a little uglier. "I'm sure it has _nothing _to do with the fact that she can beat you up all day long without breaking you."

Ah, yes. Advantages.

I raised my mug of coffee, as if to toast the accomplishment and received a half-sneer in return. Amelia… I mean, _Panacea_, didn't approve of how Victoria was teaching me Brute-specific combat safety. I'm still not sure if she hates me or not. On one hand, the brunette seemed, at once, grateful and annoyed by my aid here at the hospital. But on the other, she tolerates my presence both here and around the New Wave family. People who hate others don't spend time around them. From what I've seen, hate usually prompts the parties involved to either avoid or attack each other… right?

Maybe she thinks of me as an interloper in her family? Or perhaps a potential replacement at the hospital? I hope not. I don't want to replace anyone; I just want to be me. Whomever _that_ might be.

I shook my head to clear it of such melancholic thoughts. Focus on the future. I might be lacking in yesterdays but I have an… unfortunate number of tomorrows. I can be who I want to be. I _will be_ who I want to be. Whomever I once was doesn't matter. That person is gone –or perhaps never was –and I'm here now. Focus on that. Focus on the future.

"Thoughts," I said in way of an explanation when Panacea noticed my gesture.

"Thoughts," she agreed, almost reluctantly.

The timer on her phone trilled its alarm, announcing the end of our –now mandatory, courtesy of Miss Angelica's handiwork –break. It was more for Panacea's sake than for mine, but I abided by it so that the hospital would enforce it on her, too. Loathe as she is to admit it, the teenager needs breaks more often.

On the way out, I brushed my elbow against her shoulder, stealing away the buildup of chemicals that caused the younger girl's sleep-deprived stress and exhaustion.

For a split second, I reveled in the novel feeling of exhaustion. The way my legs thought, for a moment, to wobble with weakness and how my eyes began to blur out of focus. Then, before exhaustion could cloud my thoughts the way that I've seen it do to others, my body healed itself. Less than a second passed by and several days' worth of exhaustion and stress were gone. Vanished, as if they had never been.

Panacea shot me a glare, disapproving of my theft. Curiously, she remained silent, seemingly content with making her displeasure known but leaving it unvoiced. Had Victoria spoken to her again?

I headed to the coma ward –there had been a few transfers and, though no one mentioned it to me, I knew that the families of those patients were silently hoping for my intervention –and Panacea briskly turned towards the ICU.

Panacea rarely spoke to me. In the corners of my mind, I wondered if she had _anyone _to speak to. I pushed the thought away, uncomfortable with how it sat on my mind. Perhaps I should speak with Victoria, just to be sure?

X

_Up._

"You know, I'm a little jealous. You don't need to rest, you don't need breaks. You don't even sweat!"

_Down_.

"Aegis, you know that's not exactly fair."

_Up._

"Maybe," he grumbled back. I withheld a sigh.

_Down_.

I healed too well to be tired out. Aegis, with his redundant biology, was able to abuse his body until he merited a low brute rating. I was able to do the same thing, after a fashion. I had to abuse my body twice as much for half the result. Muscles basically grew with small amounts of damage. Actually damaging them took a lot more effort for me than it did for Aegis, but when they healed, the progress was more efficient.

_Up._

These meetups were a somewhat regular thing. The PRT would invite me for a joint-training session between their Wards and myself. I would politely agree, feigning a vague interest and enjoying the camaraderie, basking in the reflected warmth of their friendship. Eventually, one of them would make an obvious and idle attempt to sway me into the PRT's fold.

"So what do you think Solace, do you wanna go on patrol later this week," Aegis asked me, throwing subtly out the window.

_Down._

I would decline, but never so firmly as to truly dash their hopes. Honestly, I simply preferred healing; it was like scratching an itch in the back of my mind.

"Maybe another day," I laughed in response. Being an independent hero in Brockton was a lot like being a prize pig in the jungle. The tigers would pace, eager for the kill, eager for the kill, eager for the smell of blood.

_Up._

Aegis huffed a shallow laugh in response.

The Wards, decent people that they are, never pushed too hard. They seem to genuinely like me and don't want to push me away. Of course, they usually try to frame it as a slow, soft persuasion to their superiors.

_Down._

It was a fun little pageantry, and we the actors played our rolls well for the audience. I wonder if the Director was actually convinced by the mummery or if she, too, was simply playing her part.

How long can it last?

X

"What's the status on Deviant 854-7?"

"Same as before, though we suspect that he might be taking an interest in the local cape scene beyond his instilled duties."

"What are the projected ramifications?"

"If he keeps his compassion? We might need to relocate Project Sovereign."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then we'll simply readjust as necessary and ensure the appropriate measures are in place."


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: This fic is rated M for later Mature occurrences. It's a worm-fic, after all.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but a nice library of books.**

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_"Death is is equitable; accepting. We will all one day be welcomed by her embrace."  
\- Agdayne_

* * *

"Hello, Grey Healer, how are you this fine evening?"

I smiled at Lord Aero's exuberant greeting. The nineteen year old had a psychotic break due to his trigger event and insisted that everyone call him by his "true" name. The boy was fine, physically. There was no brain bleed to steal away, no damage to his grey matter to take. The boy was actually rather healthy for someone his age. Unfortunately, his mind had… well, perhaps not _shattered_, but it had definitely broken a little bit.

"Rather well, and yourself," I responded with good cheer. Aero might not be quite there, but he was still every bit the smiling teenager that he was before.

"As bright as a full moon's light! And I'm heartened to hear that the good healer is doing just as well!" His teeth gleamed with the pristine whiteness of his grin.

Aero's power was rather simple: he projected a sort of dome against Master and Shaker effects. Victoria's aura was suppressed in its entirety in the hospital and I suspect that Skidmark –the drug-addled leader of the Merchants –would be rendered just as powerless.

Aero's ability, simple as it was, kept the PRT from recruiting him. And because of its passivity, it shielded him from being shipped off to the Asylum. Though he still received therapy, from what I heard around the breakroom. Of course, his _specific _manner of mental instability was only just ugly enough to keep him from recruitment but also steady enough to avoid the Asylum.

"You missed the sunrise, Grey Healer," Aero chided as though I had missed a grand spectacle. "This morning's hues were wonderfully vibrant, you know? Deep violet arcs pierced through the black night, followed swiftly by bands of goldenrod, lighting up the sky like pillars from God's own Paradise… the amaranth clouds drifting across the morning sky…"

Aero continued to wax eloquently about the sunrise sky that I had missed. Some mornings, when I had the time free, I would arrange his regular checkup to be early in the day, so that we could watch the sunrise together.

Lord Aero didn't have anyone else to watch the sunrise with him. His family had long since stopped visiting, fulfilling their familial obligations via hospital bills and kind thoughts. The nurses were simply too busy to sit and watch the sun rise with the mentally ill boy. However, there wasn't a person in this hospital who would dare to deny me those minutes.

Well, Amelia might. But she and I had _had _that argument –several times –and we would likely have that argument many more times in the future. It helped that I had Miss Angelica on my side, though. That nurse has a way of getting what she wants, even if I never see her machinations.

Despite her smiling demeanor, that nurse scares me, sometimes.

"Perhaps I'll watch it tomorrow," I laughed in appeasement at the young boy's offense. "You know just as well as I do that I'm not exactly lacking in time."

"Now, now, Grey Healer, don't take up that mentality." I took Aero's small, bony hand in my own as he pointed seriously at me. Or, as serious as Aero ever became. "Many days you might have but each day only has a finite time. And if you begin to put things off because of your condition, you'll lift your head from your endeavors to find a world that has moved on. You'll be passed by and alone."

I found myself silent, with no response to the young man's words. Instead, I stole away Aero's drowsiness, his budding bedsores and his stomachache. I felt nothing, healed before the inconveniences could even surface.

Aero's seafoam green eyes looked at me encouragingly, his ever-present smile widening to extreme proportions. "Worry not, Grey Healer. Lord Aero's body is as stalwart as your own! As long as the sun breathes life to the world, I will not let you be left behind!"

I smiled a little, at the sentiment. It was a kind gesture, false though it might be. It was simply another reminder of the teenager's mental illness. He wasn't as ageless as I was. With his fragile hand held in my own, I could _see _his telomeres vanishing bit by bit with every cellular division.

He was aging. He was dying. Bit by bit, second by second, he was marching the slow and inevitable march towards death. His body would one day fail. His mind would one day leave in its entirety, the brain matter housing his consciousness degrading beyond functionality. Aero would die. Just like most everyone else.

I fixed the smile to my face, revealing a small amount of my too-sharp teeth, and thanked the young man. It was an earnest gesture, its falsity aside, and deserved an equally earnest thanks. Aero didn't see through the fascade. He took it, as he did all things, at face value.

I left the brightly lit room and made my way to the next one.


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own worm.**

**WARNING: Rated M for Worm. Abide by it.**

* * *

_"In peace, sons buy their fathers. In war, fathers bury their sons."_

_-Proverb_

* * *

I stole away arterial bleeds, rent muscles, and third degree burns (charred, blackened flesh melted down to porcelain-white bone that gleamed under florescent lights like the most macabre pearls) with one hand. I reached out with my other hand to the next hospital bed and took away internal injuries. Bruised tissues, scrambled organs, and piecemeal bones realigned, healing themselves even as I took on their hurts.

Agony flared in my mind, smothering conscious thought for a brief, horrific moment. Wordless, primal determination kept my power on task, stealing away more pain and more torment –piling it on. Then my body healed itself faster than I could take their trauma.

I worked faster.

I rushed from bed to bed, taking their mutilated muscles and horrific wounds as quickly as I was capable of going. I healed faster than the damage could accumulate and I pushed myself to go even faster. Agony and anguish, hurt and hemorrhaging, I took it all. If there were beds close enough, I reached over and stole away both patients' suffering.

Time flew by without my notice, I swept from bed to bed, from room to room, to aid the doctors and surgeons and nurses doing their meager best. Lung had rampaged again. Lung had raged, heedless of the destruction. Heedless of the death that I now sought to stave off. Idly, my needle-sharp teeth ground in soulful frustration.

I reached out and grasped a young girl's thin wrist –hardly larger than Elene's. The child was hemorrhaging blood horribly, her brain swollen from bruising and her organs weren't faring much better.

I set to work with a narrow-minded focus. I stole away her brain damage first, grey matter returning to normal as the swelling vanished. I took her organ damage, her kidneys reforming into their pristine state and her heart beating as strongly as a horse. Her gallbladder converged from the shattered shards it had been rendered too. Her abdominal muscles and blood vessels shifted around to make room–

…for an organ that never reappeared. The girl bled out, dead. Her pale face looked up sightlessly at the ceiling. No. This isn't how you die. I grip her wrist tighter, feeling the strain of the bones and tendons underneath my hand. I focus my power again. And again. And again.

_Dead_. It tells me. _Inert. Useless. Decaying._

No. I can't let this happen to someone so young this isn't what you deserve you're too young to die like this! I refocus my power again, placing my other hand on her wrist, as if two hands would make a difference.

_Dead._ No she isn't!

_Inert._ Fix her!

_Decaying. _GIVE IT TO ME AND FIX HER TAKE MY BREATH MY LIFE MY HEART JUST BRING THE KID BACK!

I feel a hand touch my lower back, and I whip my head around, eyes wild and a snarl on my lips. The face of the hospital's chaplain makes me pause, the deep grief on his face dulling the brunt of my anger like a high wave upon the bluffs of an immovable cliff.

"She's not… Father, she's not dead! I can help her," I insist desperately, eyes burning with tears that will never fall.

"You've done your duty, son. Now let me do mine."

Strong arms clad in black gently push me to the side. Small, calloused hands grasp my own. Nurse Angelica tugs me forward, not strong enough to force me to move. I glance at Father Michael, how his hands shake slightly as he prays over the sleeping girl.

Nurse Angelica incessantly tugs once more. I find myself mindlessly following her, allowing the aging nurse to lead me forward like a dog on a leash. Time passes, measured only by my heavy, unsteady footfalls.

A noise prompts me to lift my head, and Nurse Angelica is trying to push me into a chair. We're in the breakroom. I half-collapse in the chair, feeling it strain under my weight. My eyes begin to burn again.

"She's… she's still alive. Michael… Father Michael, he doesn't need to…" Words splutter out of my mouth before I trail off. I can't bring myself to say it. Saying it would make it real.

Nurse Angelica looks at me from over her the rim of her glasses, warm eyes meeting my own burning gaze with a soft strength that I couldn't hope to describe. Heartbeats pass in silence as she offers me silent support.

"They'll need my help. Panacea's in school," I try, my mind latching onto how I might stay busy.

"We'll be fine," she parries without missing a beat. "Don't underestimate us, now. You've done a lot of good and you've fixed the worst of it. I reckon we'll be able to handle the rest."

How can she smile like that? My shoulders shake silently and my face remains dry. Self-loathing fills my heart. Even now, I can't cry. Even now, when…

"You've saved a lot of people today, Solace. Policemen and women, Protectorate capes and PRT agents, civilians all alike… They'll go home today. Because of you, they'll go home to their husbands and wives and children. They'll live another day."

_"Almost everyone_," I can't help but to think. "_Because of me_."

Shame and guilt and hatred fill my heart.


	5. Chapter 4, Part 2

**Disclaimer: I own little more than the clothes on my back, a stack of well-loved books, and certainly not Worm.**

**Warning: Rated M for adult themes. Abide. Also unbetaed, mind its roughness.**

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_"The sorrow which has no vent in tears may make other organs weep."  
-Henry Maudlsey _

* * *

I held that boy to my chest, the force of his shaking shoulders rocking the both of us to and fro on the breakroom floor. The full force of my aging strength –the unfortunate profit of a misspent youth –would not be enough to anchor him. So I didn't.

I held Solace to my breast and rode out his gasping sobs with him, tears of my own –tears for his anguish, tears of sympathy and of _empathy_, tears of my own, upon his behalf –trickled down my face, dampening his dark hair.

I held the boy to my chest as he cried against the world, eyes burning with tears that just wouldn't fall. That would _never_ fall. Solace's immense, hulking frame curled into my meager embrace –_has he ever been held before?_ –and I offered what comfort my scarred old heart held.

I held this child to my heart, riding out his sorrowful gasping, his shuttering breaths. I held him as his quivering shoulders stilled, his marbled arms –that clutched at me with a child's ferocity, his conscious gentleness forgotten with the desperate and _human _need for comfort, bruising my ribs an all-too familiar purple-black –unwrapped me and clutched his own sides as he drew his knees to his chest. His full weight fell against my silent embrace, the child now exhausted in a way that his physiology couldn't mend.

I held him in silent comfort, for what words could possibly be said? What words would make this heartache right?

By God above, I hate this town sometimes.

X

Panacea ran through the doors, only to find that her alarm was useless. The emergency had passed her by and the nurses had long since moved on to the noncritical cases. She was late.

Even having left school early, she was late. Even after guilting Vicky into flying her straight to the hospital, she was still late. Even though Panacea had endured the bugs and the screaming winds –because that was what happened when Vicky flew as fast as she could –she still was still too late.

Speaking with the nurses, the teenage cape found out that Lung had attacked at the docks again. The hospital was always busy after one of his childish fits –not that she'd dare to say that aloud, one doesn't call Lung "childish." Not if you want to live, anyway. It was her opinion that there's a reason that the PRT hasn't brought him in yet, and it's not _just_ because they're hoping for a repeat performance of Kyushu.

Solace had been here –the hypocrite was here more often than she was –and had helped with the worst of it until he lost a patient. The panicked shock of it forced the Head Bitch to drag the jolly grey giant to the breakroom so he wouldn't break anything. Apparently the hospital's chaplain was still with him.

Panacea resisted the urge to sneer. Solace cared too much. Patients were lost all the time and him losing it didn't solve anything. It just meant that he couldn't fix more people. Though, maybe now he wouldn't be called as much.

Maybe she could step up her work again, like before he'd appeared in town. He'd still handle the kids of course. The screaming potatoes didn't have enough mass for Panacea to work with. After the Crawfords, Solace could _have _that headache.

_Thump. Thump._

_Thump. Thump. _

Heavy footfalls marked a slow beat as the monstrous cape in question turned the corner. The aging chaplain guided him toward the exit, a hand on the taller man's back –heedless of the bloodspattered scrubs –and unheard whispers that were met with no response.

Really, ex-con the old man might be, but there's no need to outright ignore him! Still, a dark amusement grew at the notion that Solace needed comfort.

The sound of a clearing throat caught Panacea's attention. Miss Angelica fixed her with a harsh glare, somehow managing to look down her nose at her in spite of the fact that Panacea was taller than the older nurse by a significant margin.

"Please go visit the oncology wing," the diminutive nurse's voice spun the polite request into a clipped command.

Panacea mumbled an apathetic acquiescence before heading that way, her head ducked low to avoid eye contact with parents that might try to catch her attention. There was always someone who needed help with kidney stones, a tummy tuck, an appendectomy, or some other minor "emergency." It was a waste of her time and, in her opinion, Solace wasted his time by indulging them. It only encouraged them, making them more likely to interrupt her and waste yet more of her time when there were actual, literal, medical emergencies to be hand.

Panacea passed by the breakroom on her way to the Oncology Department for a cup of coffee.

…Oh, great. Solace somehow ripped up the floor _again _with his fucking claws _again_. The idiot! The hospital replaced the floors specifically for him, would it kill him to show a _little_ gratitude?!


	6. Chapter 5

Warning: Mature themes, unbeta-ed and (mostly) unedited. I'll get to that later on.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Worm, and I own only my OCs. I'm just here to fuck about in this sandbox, really.

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"_You have a heart of gold. Don't let them take it from you._"  
_-Stockpile Thomas_

* * *

**A few weeks later...**

Solace had never ran so fast before. Long strides swiftly carried him as he sprinted out of the hospital.

There wasn't time to be polite, to call for a hole to be made. When Solace couldn't weave between pedestrians, he simply leapt over them –his corded legs clearing well over their heads, his sharp claws biting deeply into the asphalt upon his descent. There wasn't time to be mindful. His emergency number had been called, the one that was explicitly for life-or-death situations, or for children who were in _severe _need of aid.

When Solace had first released the number to the public, there were a fair few prank calls, a few needless calls, one gang ambushes, and even a child asking for help with his homework. That had been stopped with judicious application of force (both the violent variety and the overwhelming force of peer pressure, spurred on by Solace's good reputation). There were _no _crank calls anymore.

Solace sped up and, charging through sidewalks and dashing through alleyways, Brockton Bay blurred around him. He ran as fast as he was humanly able and then pushed himself to go faster still, his body purging itself of lactic acid and other such inconveniences before they could register in his mind. He couldn't slow down.

Leaping over the final road to bypass the heavy traffic, Solace came to a stop in front of his destination, Winslow High School, and inanely noted –in the still-cognizant corners of his mind –that he was still wearing his hospital scrubs. Solace dismissed the errant thought. He had arrived before the ambulance. There was work to be done.

Solace strode through the front doors, only slowing down enough so that his feet wouldn't tear up the floor of the school. There were school faculty there –no doubt to lead him to the patient. Solace ignored them. He could smell the blood and the shit and the rot. It fouled his nose and soured his face.

Solace allowed his nose to lead him through the maze of hallways to the poor sight before him. A swarm of students hovered around an unresponsive girl, filming on their phones. Solace made sure to glance at their faces. Faces that filled with fear at the monstrous thing before them. Solace was... all too aware of the impression he naturally gave. He bared his teeth and growled for them to make way. They fled instead.

Solace bent down to one knee. "Ma'am, I'm going to pick you up now." She didn't reply, only rubbing her hands up and down the lengths of her arms, as if reassuring herself that she was, indeed, there.

He swept the girl up and into his arms, heedless of the mess that smeared against his scrubs. _Menstrual Blood. Feces. Insects. Useless. Inert._ Solace's power whispered to him –"_what happened to you_," he wondered grimly –as he carried the teenager outside, navigating the winding hallways with ease. His brain never forgot. It was… different. Far different than a normal human brain, according to Amelia's cold observation. _"A bit different, but still very, recognizably, human,"_ Nurse Angelica had reassured.

Budging open the front door of the school, an ambulance lay waiting. Solace set the girl down upon the stretcher and climbed inside. As the paramedics shut the door and rushed about, Solace allowed his ivory hand to –gently, and ever-mindful of his claws –brush against the young girl's hand.

Eyes widening with shock, Solace began to steal away hurt and pain again and again. _Severe infection. High fever. Bruises. Scrapes. Fractured bones –hands, toes, arms, nose, more. Chipped teeth. Damaged tongue. Irritated skin on the forearms. Weak Eyesight. Brain inflammation._ The list went on and on. Solace healed it all, committing each and every injury to memory. When he finished, there would be no imperfection. No scarring or blemish to mark the girl for her ordeal. Looking at her, no one would know her trauma. A mixed blessing.

The brain inflammation gave him pause, though. It was centered around the girl's Gemma.

Brain structures don't just grow out of nowhere, except in the case of parahumans. Even then, the brain is still squished, a little bit, from the sudden emergence of a new area where there hadn't been one before. In most cases, the inflammation caused nothing more than mild discomfort and an increased irritability for a short period of time. Solace stole away all the inflammation and discomfort.

What happened? This girl _triggered_. Even as Solace made plans to arrange her hospital room to be near Aero's room –just in case –something dark and caustic settled in his stomach. Shadow Stalker went to Winslow. That girl knew what happened to this child. Something like… _this _doesn't happen in a vacuum. Solace would find out what happened. And then he would find out why Shadow Stalker didn't do anything to stop it.

Solace's knuckles whitened with the force of his anger.

Not again.


End file.
